Revisionist History
by gladiatorgirl0
Summary: In which I rewrite Olivia/Fitz scenes that did not end the way we had hoped. Unconnected oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

Hi ya'll. Thanks for all of your great reviews and feedback! Just FYI - I am definitely going to continue this story and have a lot of great scenes in mind to include. That being said, I've decided that in my haste to join the Scandal fanfic community, I rushed to post chapter one and feel I could improve it with a few revisions before posting new chapters. I'll have chapter one reposted soon and another quick to follow!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi ya'll! I'm sorry this took so long. The following is a rewrite of the original first chapter of this story. I know some of you already read the original, but don't be too disappointed; this version is completely different and nearly 3000 words longer (which is why I decided to post it as a new chapter rather than just replacing the old one). I think you will all like this version much better than the other (I know I do).

Anyway, if you have time, please take a moment to leave a review. I am always looking for constructive feedback. Also, if you've got a scene in mind that you think would be good for this story, please feel free to message it to me and I'd love to write it!

So, without further ado:

**Chapter One: Rewritten Ending to the Fitz/Olivia interaction in "Hell Hath No Fury." In which Cyrus does not intercept Olivia, and she meets Fitz at "their spot."**

* * *

_"Our spot, ten minutes."_

_"You can't leave your own state dinner."_

_"Watch me."_

* * *

She found him sitting on their bench—a gray stone monstrosity with swirling floral shapes carved into the contours of its high back and rounded arms. It was tucked neatly inside a patch of extra large, thick rose bushes that had been installed at Mellie's request and later used, ironically, to shield Olivia's and Fitz's private moments from her watchful, suspicious eyes.

Olivia's mind wandered back to the countless times she'd sat next to him there. Evenings spent revising speeches that were already perfect save for the fact that completed speeches did not require meetings with the Communications Director. Mornings spent in the warm sunshine going over talking points for that day's staff meetings. Late nights in the dark, once the meetings were over, spent dreaming out loud about somedays to come when they would sit in their own garden, at their own home, watching their own children play. Olivia felt light at the recollection of how those conversations had stolen her breath and made her feel like she was anyone but herself, because surely the Olivia Pope she had been before meeting Fitzgerald Grant would never have talked so freely about her dreams for the future. Dreams that had nothing to do with D.C. politics and everything to do with loving the beautiful man beside her.

Now, that same man sat slumped forward on the bench in front of her as a knot of anxiety tightened in her gut. She wondered how they had ever been so reckless; so stupid as to believe in anything other than the reality of their daily lives. A wave of humiliation washed over her as she thought of how ridiculous she must seem to Stephen and Cyrus, who had so firmly believed in her ability as a professional, only to watch her wither away into a lovesick little girl, willing to risk everything she'd accomplished for a handful of stolen moments with the most romantically unavailable man on the planet.

"You came," he said quietly. His voice pulled her from her reverie, and the hope that it held immediately chipped away at her resolve. _This_ is why she'd said goodbye with a pin and a letter.

"I wasn't going to," she admitted, "But we need to put this to rest, Fitz, once and for all. This has to stop."

He visibly flinched at her words, leaning back on the bench and rubbing his hands over his face. She closed her eyes and looked away, swallowing the lump already forming in her throat at the thought of how this conversation would crush him.

"I can't stop, Olivia." He got up and walked toward her, but she stepped away as he did, keeping her distance, and he had to settle for standing a few feet in front of her. "I told you already. You are the most important person in my life. I cannot stop. I won't."

"Is that what you told Amanda, too?" she replied, raising an accusatory eyebrow as she spoke. It was a cheap shot, she knew, but Olivia could not lose sight of why she had come here. The feeling of betrayal that Amanda's name infused provided her with a fresh shot of determination. "Was it before or after you called her sweet baby?"

Fitz hung his head and sighed. "I'm sorry," he answered quietly. "I don't know what else to say. I was lonely and sad and drunk and miserable from missing you. I thought we were done for good."

"We were," she clarified sharply. "_Are_."

His expression wilted further. "She came onto me and I let her go too far. But I didn't tell her I loved her. She meant nothing, it meant-"

"Stop, Fitz," Olivia interrupted, putting a hand up to drive her point home. She was not here to listen to his excuses, particularly ones that included details of his sexual escapades with his White House aide. "Amanda is just one of many reasons why this has to end, but your little rendezvous with her certainly put the nail in the coffin if it wasn't there already. I let you go for an _honorable_ reason, to allow you to try and make things right with your _wife_, to fix your marriage and be the man you wanted to be. Instead you barely waited for me to get all the way out the door before taking advantage of the next stupid girl willing to fall into bed with you."

Fitz stared at her, silenced by her words. Olivia's blood was running cold, her mind filled with the memory of that moment when she knew. When Quinn said "sweet baby," and the tiny seed of doubt that she'd been ignoring throughout the entire ordeal grew into a horrible, sickening confirmation of her worst fear. Amanda Tanner had been telling the truth about Fitz.

She shook her head, willing her mind to come back to the present and remain clear enough to finish the conversation. She walked past him and sunk down onto the bench, putting her face in her hands and taking a deep, calming breath.

"Fitz, I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I didn't come here to rehash the Amanda Tanner issue, but now that we're talking about it, it's only confirming what we already know. This has got to end. We nearly ruined our careers by being silly enough to believe that whatever _this_ is," she motioned between them, "was bigger than the circumstances surrounding it. We were fools. You are the very married president of the most powerful nation in the world. _Nothing_ is bigger than those circumstances. Nothing."

He looked at her with sad eyes. She stared back, remembering those same eyes filled with unhindered joy that made her warm inside, with adoration that filled her up and made her count her lucky stars, with raw desire that sent a thrill of anticipation through her from head to toe. Now they were just empty.

Part of her was satisfied by his despair. But another part of her-a beating, pulsing, infuriating part of her-felt guilty knowing that she was the cause of it. That he was scared to lose her. Deep down, despite the sharp anger and thick betrayal that shook her to the core every time she thought of Amanda Tanner, Olivia knew that Fitz truly did regret it. She knew that he loved her. She knew that he would never stop blaming himself for driving her away, even if she had already been away before it happened. And deep down, despite every ounce of her logic willing her not to, she still loved him too.

"Please don't leave," he said then, his voice barely a whisper. "You can't leave me. I'm sorry."

Olivia swallowed, staring up at the black, starless sky above the garden, pausing to make certain her voice would remain steady before speaking. "I'm leaving, Fitz." She stood up from the bench and started back toward the house. "I have to go. You know I do."

Then she was walking away and he was starting after her, panic in his steps. "Olivia, stop."

She didn't.

"Damnit, Olivia, _please_-" he nearly yelled. His deep baritone voice cracked on the last syllable, and it made her stop in her tracks. She turned, meeting his gaze and wishing his broken expression didn't force her to bite back tears.

"Since the day I found that pin and letter on my desk," he said, his voice shaky but determined. "I've been running on empty. I can't think. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I feel like I can barely breathe because it hurts so bad to miss you, to know I've hurt you, to know that I'm the stupidest man on the planet for not ending my marriage the second you said my name on that bus. The moment I knew I loved you."

He moved toward Olivia, a look of relief crossing his face when her feet remained planted and she allowed him to stand right in front of her.

"Livvie, I _love_ you. More than this job, more than any legacy I might get to leave from having it. We are bigger than these circumstances." He looked at her pleadingly. "Amanda Tanner was the single most reprehensible mistake I have ever made. I am physically sick with regret when I think about how it made you feel. When I think about how I lied to you. I am so sorry, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you. _Please_. Don't leave me."

She stared at him for a long moment, tears shining in her eyes. "Fitz, I have to go," she finally whispered, shaking her head in resistance to his plea. "There's nothing left to say. Your dinner is still going on. You have to go back inside and be a host. Be the _president_. Let me go."

"Let Tom bring you to Blair House," he begged, "Please. I only need thirty minutes to say my goodbyes. I'll say I'm ill and that I need some sleep, and then I'll come to you and we'll figure this out. Give me one night to try and fix this."

She shook her head again. "Mellie-"

"Is the one who invited you tonight because she knew I needed to see you. Mellie doesn't need to be lied to anymore, Liv."

Olivia was silent, fighting an internal battle that she felt would never end until he was grabbing her waist and pulling her into him and burying his face in her hair. She didn't—couldn't—pull away. His touch quickly crumbled any resistance she had left. She put her face in the crook of his neck, stifling a sob of relief as she felt him, smelled him, touched him, let herself give in to what she had been wanting to do since the moment she saw him sitting alone on their bench.

They stayed like that for several moments. The tension drained from her body as he stroked her back and kissed the crown of her head. "Livvie, please."

It was barely audible, his lips forming the words against her ear. She shivered.

Olivia had nothing left. She looked up at him and let the hope in his eyes dissolve the last speck of willpower she had left. "Okay. One night."

* * *

For the entire sixty-three minutes that Olivia spent waiting for Fitz to arrive at Blair House, she berated herself for coming. She had steeled herself earlier for the conversation in the Rose Garden, replaying in her mind her reasons for resigning from the White House, the consequences that would result should her affair with Fitz ever become public knowledge, and the betrayal she had felt upon learning that Amanda Tanner had been telling the truth. As she made her way out of the ballroom and toward the garden, she had rehearsed these points repeatedly until she felt confident in what she would say and certain that Fitz would have no choice but to agree.

How, then, had the mere sight of him unraveled her train of thought so completely that she had agreed to him disappearing from a State Dinner to spend time with her?

She was ashamed of her own foolishness.

With a long sigh, Olivia leaned forward in the armchair she was seated in and rubbed her hands together in front of the fireplace, the only source of light in an otherwise pitch black Lincoln Room.

"Blair House is supposed to be empty until Tuesday," Tom had explained earlier, flipping off the motion sensor lights and shutting the drapes on every window in the room. "Pennsylvania Avenue is full of press with the State Dinner going on. We can't risk someone noticing we're here."

Olivia had nodded, grateful for his discretion. She'd watched as he started a fire using the ventless gas logs stored in a closet down the hall rather than regular wood that would send smoke rising from the chimney above. When he was finished, he had discreetly left the room and positioned himself in the hallway just beyond the door, leaving Olivia alone with her thoughts.

She snapped back to the present at the sound of Fitz and Hal entering through the same tunnel door Tom had led her through an hour before. She had barely a moment to collect herself before he was standing in front of her, his curls unruly from running his hands through them all night, his eyes hopeful and bright, the same way they had been when he first saw her in the garden. Before she'd dropped the hammer.

He smiled, walking over to her slowly. She immediately stood from the chair and stepped back, out of his reach.

"Don't, Fitz. We have to talk."

His smile evaporated and his eyes dulled in disappointment.

"I know we do, Liv," he said, his expression flat. "I was just-" he paused, thinking for a moment before shaking his head, as if deciding that whatever it was he'd planned to say wasn't worth the aggravation. "Nevermind. You're right."

He sunk down into the armchair opposite the one she'd been sitting in, motioning for her to sit back down. She stood there, and for a brief moment considered walking out before they even started. Before she lost her cool again and ended up digging herself into an even deeper hole. She thought of how much easier this would be to do over the phone, from the safety of her own apartment, where she wouldn't be able to see his face or have to resist his attempts to touch her or be affected by the very proximity of him standing in the same room.

But they were already here. Fitz had left his own State Dinner to meet her. And, most frustratingly, she was the one who had agreed to that plan.

And so she sat back down, facing him with resolve.

"Fitz," she began, keeping her voice firm but polite. "I shouldn't have agreed to meet you here. I meant what I said before. There are too many reasons why this can't happen and we would be foolish to continue to tempt fate the way we have in the past. We've worked too hard to get you here to just throw it all away. This needs to end."

Fitz was quiet, staring at her expectantly for several long moments, as if he was waiting for more. When she didn't continue he raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "Are you done?"

She responded with silence. Fitz leaned forward in his chair, looking her square in the eye before he spoke. "Liv, I don't care about my presidency. Let them impeach me. I'll resign before they do. I _love_ you. You are much more important than my job. That's what it is. A job. I can always find another one."

She rolled her eyes. "Fitz, give me a break."

"Give you a break?" He said, frustration creeping into his tone, "You don't believe me?"

She sighed. "Forgive me, Mr. President, for finding it hard to believe in your narrative of love over power when I am now only one of your multiple extramarital transgressions."

He threw his hands up in defeat. "You know what, Olivia? For someone who didn't come here to rehash the Amanda Tanner issue, you're sure having a hard time letting it go."

She flinched, looking at him as if he'd slapped her. His eyes immediately widened in regret.

"Liv, I'm-"

"_Don't_," she said sharply.

Olivia stood up and began to pace, her brow furrowed in concentration as she considered her next words. She needed him to understand that this wasn't about jealousy or pride or winning. This was about betrayal. This was about Fitz eliminating any ounce of faith she'd had left in what they had shared.

"You were _with_ her," she finally whispered, speaking slowly to make certain her voice remained steady. She stopped pacing and leaned against the mantel. "You called her sweet baby."

He ran both hands through his hair, staring up at the ceiling.

"I was thinking of you," he replied after a moment. He hesitated for several long seconds before nervously turning his head to look into her eyes. "The whole time I was with her I pretended she was you."

Olivia glared at him, horrified. "Is that supposed to make me feel_ better_? That you thought of me while she touched you? Got you off when I was no longer available to do it?"

"No," he replied, his voice low and fervent. Determined to make her understand. "No, it's not. I just-sweet baby." He swallowed, his eyes glazing over. "It's yours. _Ours_. I was thinking of you. I was saying it to you."

Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, angry at her inability to control the emotion burning in her throat. The thought of him with Amanda was enough to make her ill. She wanted to hate him. Hate _her_. Instead she just loved him and pitied her, hating only herself for leaving the White House, for not meeting Mellie's passive-aggressive attempt at a threat with equal vigor.

He moved to stand closer to her; close enough for her to smell his cologne and imagine what it might feel like to lean in and let him wrap her up against his chest until she could do nothing but give in. Forget about this entire mess and get lost in the feeling of having him near.

"After I left, I thought of you every night," she told him quietly, his proximity making it impossible to keep her feelings to herself any longer. "I couldn't go to sleep without you on my mind. I missed you. I longed for you. I _pined_ for you." She paused, biting back the tears that were dangerously close to spilling over. "And you… you were with her. Amanda. And then you _used_ me, my feelings for you, to salvage your political image. You ruined her life and you cheapened what we had. We aren't special anymore. We're just a notch on your list."

"Olivia-"

"_No_," she said forcefully, "You say I left you but I did _not_. I did what I had to do to prevent your presidency from ending before it even started. I made sure everything you worked for your entire life wasn't stolen from you. That you could be the man I knew you wanted to be. But I didn't leave this relationship. I was in it. I gave up my dream job and the person I loved because I was _in_ this relationship and I loved you enough to do what was best for _you_. _You_ left, Fitz. _You_ let her take you from _me_. _You_ ruined everything sacred about what we shared and then burned any shreds that were left when you lied to my face about it. And now I'm done. We are done. This is _over_."

The room fell silent. Olivia stared at the floor determinedly, refusing to meet his gaze lest he see the emotion she was working hard to conceal. She heard the hardwood floor squeak as he rocked back on his heels and sighed, his breath quickening until it turned into short, staccato gasps that made her peer at him with a sidelong glance. His head was down, his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose as his shoulders shook with each breath.

Fitz was a vision in his pressed tux and bow tie, his flag pin gleaming in the firelight and his curls a perfect mess on his head. Everything about him was elegant—presidential—except, of course, for the fact that he was trying not to cry. God, she loved him. No matter what he did or how he hurt her, she would never not love this hopeless, infuriating, impossible man and the thought of them ending here tonight made her ache.

Her tears finally sprung free and she wiped at them furiously, hating to be vulnerable in front of him yet again. "God _damnit_, Fitz."

He looked up at her with wide, red-rimmed eyes. She hated him. "I hate you."

"I hate me too," he agreed, holding her gaze.

She got up and walked toward him until their chests nearly touched and she could feel his breath on her face. "I hate you," she said again.

"I love you," he said this time, moving one of the hands hanging beside him to brush against hers. Her eyes fell shut and she quickly thread their fingers together, squeezing his hand tightly.

"You're mine," she told him.

"_Yes_," he said fervently.

"Tell me."

He stepped closer. The hand that wasn't holding hers moved under her chin to gently tilt her head up toward his. He leaned down until their open mouths touched.

"I'm yours," he whispered against her lips. He said it with reverence, like it was a prayer that he needed to be answered. Maybe it was.

She took his bottom lip between hers, sucking gently until he groaned. He moved his hands to her waist and pressed his hips flush against hers while her hands found purchase in his hair. Her lips pressed against his repeatedly until he tried to deepen the kiss and she pulled away, breathless.

Olivia let her hands drop back down to her sides and leaned her face into his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her completely. He ran his fingertips softly up and down her exposed back and she shivered under his touch, the relief falling so heavily over her that she couldn't help it—she started to cry—and this time she didn't attempt to make it stop.

He held her while she wept. Her cries were soft, barely audible, and if he wasn't attuned to her in every way possible he might not have even realized she was crying.

"I'm sorry," Fitz whispered, sliding a hand up to the nape of her neck and into her hair, rocking her slowly, soothingly. "I love you."

Olivia let herself grieve for the time they had lost, for the fact that they'd found each other too late, for the part of her that would forever be ruined by the thought of Fitz with Amanda Tanner. For the fact that she would never lead a normal life or have the husband and family she dreamed of as a girl because this man was her life, and no matter how difficult the circumstances, she knew she could never really leave him.

Eventually she wiped her tears, determinedly shifting her thoughts from the negative to the impossibly perfect: that Fitz was here with her for an entire night, that he was holding her, that he loved her. She moved her arms around his waist and ran her hands up over the hard planes of his back, reveling in the feeling of being able to touch him.

Her actions encouraged him and he leaned his head down, kissing the pulse point of her neck, the soft skin behind her ear, her temple. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, this time running the tip of her tongue slowly along the outline of his lips, telling him wordlessly that she wanted more.

Fitz obliged, opening his mouth and curling his tongue around hers. She started pushing his jacket off his shoulders and he pulled back to look at her, his eyes full of hope and love and all of the things she knew he felt but couldn't quite put into words.

"I need you," she whispered.

"You have me," he responded, kissing her again to prove his point.

"You know what I mean," she said impatiently. She pushed his jacket the rest of the way off and reached for the buckle on his belt. "I want you."

"Okay," he said. He reached to help her with his pants. Next she made quick work of his button up and undershirt, and when he was naked save for his briefs, he pushed her back and held her at arms length, taking one last lingering look at the sight of her in her gown.

She blushed shyly as he took her in, brazenly running his eyes over the length of her body. The way he looked at her made her feel as naked in her long white dress as she did wearing nothing.

"You are _perfect_," he told her, and the stark honesty in his voice turned her cheeks even pinker.

She shook her head, embarrassed by his compliment. "Fitz-"

"Shhh," he interrupted, quieting her. "You are."

Then he reached behind her shoulders for the straps of her gown and pulled them down until the dress was on the floor and he was kneeling in front of her. He littered kisses over the flat plane of her belly, running a finger along the line of her underwear before pressing a kiss to her center through the thin material, making her gasp and grab him by the hair.

He pulled her down until she was kneeling too, and she pressed her forehead to his as she reached for his briefs, pushing them off and letting the hot, hard length of him spring free between them.

"Livvie," he panted, trembling as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. His head dropped to her shoulder. She felt empowered as he swelled in her hand, moaning softly into her skin as she stroked him slowly, firmly from base to tip, causing him to jerk and push her hands away before this ended much too soon.

"Lay back," he whispered, guiding her backwards until she was lying in front of the fireplace, her head resting on a pile of their discarded clothes and her eyes shut in anticipation, awaiting his next move.

Fitz peeled her underwear down the length of her legs before nestling himself between them. He ran his length along her center once, twice, three times until he was coated with her and sure she was ready. Then in one long, slow stroke he was inside her.

She raked her fingernails down his back and squeezed his glutes, making him sink even deeper. They both moaned. "Say it," she whispered, her nose buried in the heat of his neck. "I want you to say it."

He paused and looked down at her, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty. He had to be sure that she meant it. That she really did want him to say it.

Then she cupped his cheek and smiled. It was all the answer he needed.

"Sweet baby," he breathed, burying himself to the hilt and rocking up against her, their foreheads touching and their eyes wide open. "My sweet, sweet baby."

"You're mine," she said again. She arched against him and he groaned, thrusting more quickly and moving his mouth down to close his lips over her breast. She loved this, he knew, and the keening cry she gave at the feeling of his tongue on her nipple made him smile against her skin.

"I'm yours," he assured her, as if the thick heat of him inside her wasn't answer enough. "Livvie, I'm yours."

She started to tremble, her eyes closed in pleasure as he continued to move in and out of her. He reached down, circling a thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of her sex.

"Oooohhh," she moaned, twitching. "Yes, Fitz. There."

"Let go, Livvie," he said encouragingly, looking into her eyes. She moaned as he quickened the movement of his thumb and leaned his lips down to her ear.

"Come, baby," he whispered, and then she was panting his name over and over as he took her over the edge and she came apart in his arms, shaking against him for several long seconds before falling back against the floor, tired and sated.

She took a minute to come down from the high of her orgasm, breathing hard as she lay there, enjoying the feeling of Fitz still moving in and out of her her.

When she regained her strength, she wrapped her legs around him tightly and squeezed herself around his length. "Liv," he grunted, his now short, shallow thrusts losing rhythm as he chased his release. She felt him swell inside of her and knew he was close, so she slipped her hand between them, ghosting her fingertips over the underside of his balls the way she knew he liked it.

"Fucking _yes_, Olivia." He gasped, speeding up. "Keep- keep- oh my _God_."

Fitz groaned, spilling inside her with one last hard, deep thrust before collapsing on top of her.

They remained like that long after their lovemaking was over, needing to be connected, overwhelmed by the lingering pleasure from their orgasms and the high of being together after so long. When he finally pulled out of her and rolled onto his back she moved with him, tucking herself into his side and resting her head on his chest.

Their breathing finally started to slow. Fitz reached over and pulled Olivia's leg over his body, enjoying the feel of her slick center against his hip, reminding him of what they'd just shared. She burrowed into him, rubbing his chest, pausing at his pectorals to run her index finger back and forth over his nipple. It pebbled in response.

"You're mine," she said for the third time that night, running her hand from his chest up to his hair, finding purchase there as she closed her eyes.

"I'm yours," he answered one last time, and they finally let the exhaustion take over.

Fin.


End file.
